Can't Help Myself
by ReadYourHeartOut
Summary: SebbyxGrell, AU. Setting is similar to 1920's America. Think gangsters and shady bars. Grell is a performer in a bar owned by the Undertaker, getting tired of his usual routine. Then Sebastian comes along to shake things up. Sex in later chapters...


Sundays. Sundays were a routine. Most other nights couldn't be predicted; I never knew who I would see, how they might affect me. But Sunday nights always had one thing in common: William. _Mr. Spears_. He always came on Sundays because those were the only nights he didn't work. Naturally, I had other semi-regulars, but William _always_ arrived at 8p.m. on Sunday evening, sat at a particular table not far from the stage, watched me dance, listened to me sing. Then, when the show was over, he would pay my manager a certain fee-nothing cheap, mind you-and we would spend the night together. Most of the night. He always left soon after I fell asleep. Now let's get a few things straight before we go any further:

1) No, I am not a whore. I am a performer. My job is just a little more complex than most...  
>2) Much of the time Mr. Spears and I spent together was <em>not<em> used for sex. He had a lot on his mind, and he felt comfortable talking to me.  
>3) I was <em>in no way<em> in love with him.

I work in a sort of bar, a sort of music hall run by a friend of mine. It's an unusual occupation for a God of Death, I know, but he and I have both long since left that world... Mr. Spears was one of the ones still struggling in the Reaper bureaucracy; maybe the reason he chose to talk to _me_ about his stress was because of my past...similar to his. My friend probably has a name, but I've never thought to ask; he goes by "The Undertaker"; that's how everyone knows him, and I'm no exception. He manages the bar-"Death's Door," he calls it. Everything is a joke to that man... With a name like that, I'm sure you can imagine the sort of patrons we have. Not exactly your "average" humans, if that makes any sense. He also manages _me_ and my fellow performers. I've worked with him for years now, and I haven't gotten bored _once_. Not to sound self-righteous, but I'm the star of every evening. When men come to see us, they come _back_ to see me. For a while, that was all; I was just a performer. It was then brought to the attention of my friend that there were men who were willing to pay especially large sums in order to spend some...alone time with me. From then on, he set a certain price, and if it were offered, he would...ahem, lend me for the night. I never objected; it's just one more thing to keep me entertained. It doesn't happen often, but there are a few who come back to me the very next time the have the money. And then there's William, who returns every single Sunday without fail. He's been doing so for a few months now.

So let's start with a Sunday, just like any other. Say it was 7:30, and the girls were all fussing about backstage, trying to find this headband or that glove, touching up their makeup, all butterflies and stage fright. Me, I knew what I was doing, and I had _been_ ready. Me, I was upstairs on my balcony, cigarette in hand, watching the clouds move. For some reason, I was little melancholy that night. Maybe because I had lived it so many times already. Nothing exciting on Sundays anymore. Not that I disliked seeing William; it was just always the same...

"You do still plan on performing tonight, don't you, milady?" My friend was calling from downstairs, his silver head protruding from one of the windows, and I glanced at him over the railing.

"I'll be down in a minute." I ashed my cigarette over the side, and he chuckled.

"Still smoking, are we? You should be careful; it'll be the death of you." He went back inside, laughing at his own joke, and I shook my head at him. As I went back inside, I slipped on the gloves that lay across my vanity, then went downstairs to get ready for my first number. Men were already filing in, some with women on their arms, some single and likely to ask some of our lovely ladies to go home with them (as was their right to do; my friend didn't manage _all_ of them).

I believe I mentioned that I'm the star, so who better to start the show? As usual, I stepped onto the stage to a spotlight shining off my glasses and applause from those who knew what to expect. My music started, and as I sauntered across the stage, all eyes were on me. The song was a new one, but I knew it well enough to survey the crowd as I sang. Some of them, I recognized. Newcomers stared, enchanted. And Mr. Spears sat in his usual seat, gazing up at me. Never smiling, that man. But he did give me attention, and it was consistent. As I sang, I wandered through my audience, giving little winks and smirks. I paused for William, sat in his lap, and took the hat off his head to place it on my own. The corners of his mouth curved up a bit, his look softened; it wasn't quite a smile, but it was something, at least. Bringing the song to a close, I made my way back up to the stage and tossed William his hat, giving a bow to even louder applause than before.

I went backstage to be greeted by the sound of quiet sobbing. Confused, I sought out the source and found our newest girl knelt in front of her mirror, frantically dabbing at her face with a wet handkerchief.

"What's the matter with you?" I asked, hands on my hips.

"Oh!" she squeaked, turning to look at me in terror. Her face was an absolute mess: too much makeup, badly-applied, and now smudged with tears. She must have seen the look on my face, as she let out another choked sob. "I-I...I'm supposed to go on soon. But I've never had to...wear stage makeup before, and I..." She broke down there and sobbed into her own hands. Well, I didn't have much of a choice; I couldn't let her make a fool of herself.

"Here," I said, kneeling next to her and taking the cloth from her hand. "Stop crying; you'll only make it worse. Hush now, it'll be fine..." Once her tears had been stemmed, I set about making her look presentable, washing her face and then redoing her makeup _properly_.

"There," I said as I finished up. Really, she was very pretty, in a young, flighty sort of way. "You look just fine." As she nervously observed herself in the mirror, she breathed a shaky sigh of relief.

"Oh, thank you, Miss Sutcliff! Thank you so much." She kissed my hands, then hastily scurried toward the stage.

"Come see em _before_ the show on Wednesday, and I'll show you how to do it yourself," I called after her. Little girls inside Death's Door. Poor things. Since I didn't have another song for a while, I went out to sit with William, taking a sip from his drink. "Good evening, Mr. Spears. Fancy seeing you here."

"You had a new song tonight," he noted, eyes fixed on me (just the way I liked it).

"I did. I have another for later, too. You'll stay and watch the whole show, won't you?" I batted my eyes at him, and he nodded.

"You know I will. ...would you like one of your own?" he asked as I stole another drink of his martini.

"I would, but I can't; have to keep my wits about me in this place," I told him with a smile. "Otherwise someone might _take advantage_ of me." That was actually said with a shiver; the prospect was sort of exciting... William glanced away and said casually,

"If you returned home, you wouldn't have to worry about things like that." Ugh. That was another thing about Mr. Spears; he was always trying to get us to go back to the Reaper Realm... Be boring workaholics like him. No, thank you.

"If it's all the same to you, sweetie, I'll take my chances here," I told him, getting to my feet and leaving for the office in the far corner of the building, where my friend sat looking over some book or another; that was usually how he passed his time during business hours. Waiting for someone to come asking _delicate_ information. I sat at the edge of his desk, stretched out my leg and observed my high-heeled shoe. He didn't look up, so I let out a loud sigh to indicate that I was in need of attention.

"Is something the matter, milady?" he asked without turning his eyes from his book.

"Sunday," I answered simply. "Exactly the same as the past twenty Sundays. He's out there again tonight."

"Shouldn't you be used to that by now?"

"I am! That's exactly the problem!" I whined. "It's always just the same. _Sing_ for our customers. _Flirt_ with Will. Smoke a cigarette. Sleep with Will. Smoke another cigarette. Tell him, 'No, I'm still not coming back; stop asking.' It's just getting so damn monotonous!" He chuckled at my frustration.

"I'm terribly sorry. I can refuse Mr. Spears' offers from now on if you like, but I hardly think that would make your Sundays any less predictable. Be patient, milady, and I'm sure something will come along to mix things up a bit," he said. I believe we can all recognize _foreshadowing_ when we hear it.

"Hmph. It had just better happen soon," I mumbled as I left the office; he obviously wasn't going to entertain me. And there was no point in going about the room trying to flirt; I already knew who would be joining me in my bed that night. So I went backstage once more to relax a little and wait for my next number. As I took off my gloves and reached for a cigarette, I found most of our little performers all huddled about, talking, giggling, waiting for their next chance to go onstage. I could see the new one from before-Abigail...Abbey...something like that-being congratulated on her number. That was all well and good, but my eyes wandered to the one who stood apart from the crowd. Her name was Lilian, and she had been with us longer than most of the others. She was a pretty thing, and she knew it well. Her voice was only _decent_. She was standing a few feet away from the others, watching thoughtfully, a very slight scowl on her lips. Terribly obvious to everyone, yes? So unladylike. Coming to an easy assumption, I called to her, "Lilian? Come talk to me." She threw me a glance that was a bit sharper than absolutely necessary, but came to stand in front of me.

"What is it? I'm onstage soon."

"Did you by any chance give little Abbey some makeup tips earlier this evening?" Though she was probably expecting the question, she blanched just slightly.

"I might have. All I told her was that when you're on stage and in this light, it's easy for your face to get washed out. She wasn't wearing enough. I just told her that," she explained with a shrug.

"Oh, I see," I answered, taking a drag from my cigarette. "Nothing vindictive or spiteful about that."

"Tch. Why should I be? You think I'm jealous of that skinny little nothing?" She glanced over her shoulder at "that skinny little nothing" with venom in her eyes.

"I don't care how you feel about her. But if you try to make one of _our_ performances look bad again, I'll have you thrown out," I promised cheerfully. With this direct threat, her dagger-glare was turned on me.

"Tch. As if you have that power," she challenged.

"You wouldn't know that, would you? I have more power than you can imagine, little girl," I informed her calmly, thinking of the Death Scythe sleeping in my closet and the fact that I could tear her apart with _so _little effort.

"Who are you kidding? You're practically ancient. There's no way the boss would listen to _you_ over _me_." Hm. Well, if she wanted to play that way, there wasn't much I could do about it, was there? I sighed, took another deep drag from my cigarette, and exhaled smoke. I then used that same hand to slap the little wretch across the face. She shrieked from being struck, as well as the burn across her cheek. As she stumbled back and clutched at her face, all the others turned to see what she was wailing about. I flicked the now-ruined cigarette at her and called to little Abbey,

"Abbey, sweetie, Lilian has decided to pursue employment elsewhere. Do you think you can take over her next song?" Lilian let out a horrid noise of fury, but Abbey nodded nervously. I threw a disdainful glance at our little prima donna and told her, "You should probably go out through the back so no one has to look at you." She was livid, but didn't dare act on it. Instead, she stormed out, leaving an definite tenseness behind her. Still, I just shrugged and smiled at the others.

I spent the rest of my evening backstage, doting on my girls (as I so rarely did) and making sure they knew that I wouldn't attack them for no reason... As it grew later and later, it was time for my last song, and I came back onstage to applause louder and more uproarious than we'd heard all night (the alcohol probably helped). When I started to sing, though, I noticed something unexpected. Since it was getting late, most of our patrons were either readying to leave or had already gone; we wouldn't be doing business much longer. However, while I was on stage for my last number, I saw someone new come in. Someone I didn't recognize. I had to focus on my performance, and it was dark, so I couldn't get a proper look at him... I saw a black pinstriped suit. A hat that cast shadows over his eyes. Dark hair, and a smirk. Who...? He glanced briefly toward me, and butterflies fluttered in my stomach for a moment, but I managed to keep singing. Who was he? Try as I might to look elsewhere, my gaze kept wandering back to him. I watched him until he disappeared into my friend's office. So he was one of _those_... Too bad; he would probably be gone before I could ask his name... However, my disappointment never showed in my voice, and I ended the show to cheers and applause as usual. As the place slowly emptied out, I slipped upstairs to my bedroom to get ready for the _rest_ of the night.

My dress dropped to the floor, and I left it there for the aesthetic. I then put on something more alluring, something lacy and black, something that turned me into a yummy piece of eye-candy. I then sat in my bed to wait for my...guest. He arrived shortly and knocked at the door, ever the polite one.

"Come in~," I called. As he did, I saw he had already removed his jacket and hat, and he set them aside. He then came to sit next to me on the bed, and I started to move closer. "How was work this week? Kill anyone interesting?" My hands slid up to his shoulders to massage them gently; that was where he held most of his tension. His shoulders and down his spine.

"It was work as usual. I don't know what _you_ would consider interesting." He rolled his shoulders back and sighed. "Honestly, the corruption never ceases to amaze me. Politicians. Organized crime. Humans..." He shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Oh, you poor thing," I said sympathetically as I slipped his suspenders off his shoulders. "Working so hard to keep _them_ in balance. For now, you should try to think of something else..." Giving him an idea, I moved to straddle his leg and loosen his tie. His eyes wandered up to me, across the sheer fabric that covered my skin, and his hand slid up my side, giving me a little chill. As I leaned in to put my lips to his neck, he spoke quietly.

"I suppose if there's any time I can suppress thoughts of work, it should be now." His fingers slide very slowly through my hair. "...do you enjoy doing this?"

"'This'?" I giggled, running my fingertips down his chest toward his hips. He coughed slightly, and I was sure he was blushing in the darkness.

"I mean this 'job' of yours. Your singing. Being retired." Of course, it was only a matter of time before he brought up this subject.

"Yes, I do. I miss killing things sometimes...often..." I admitted. "But I wouldn't dream of going back _there_." I chose not to mention the fact that my friend indulged my bloodlust every now and then by taking me out to let me kill just _one_ little human. "Too many rules. You know I never fit in there."

"You never tried..."

"I shouldn't _have_ to try," I countered, trying to be patient with him. "I don't belong there, William. You do; you're good at your job. But I'm better off here." He stayed quiet for a few moments. When I realized that he wasn't going to speak, I decided to help the situation progress by moving in closer to breathe in his ear. "Come now, Mr. Spears. I didn't mean to upset you. Let me apologize." I captured his earlobe and sucked on it gently, feeling him shiver beneath me. As my mouth moved down to his neck, my knee slid forward a bit to nudge between his legs. After only a few moments of this, he seemed to forgive me, as he pushed me down against the bed. His hands roamed, his lips sought mine; he was always so eager... Maybe he just realized that his words weren't doing any good, so he wanted to talk to me in a way I might respond to. These "conversations" of ours were always spirited, but never quite passionate. I'd always thought of William as almost...incapable of passion. Sex was one thing. Lust was one thing. But his _feeling_ was always...a little lacking. Not to say that his _performance_ was poor, of course!

Some time alter, I was lying there in my bed, gazing at the far wall while he lay next to me. His hand ran up and down my side, and neither of us spoke; we had been communicating all night. Now it was just quiet and ark in my room, and I sighed softly. Quiet, and I relaxed against my pillow. After several _long_ moments of silence...

"Grell." I didn't answer. Sure, I was tired, but I mostly just didn't want to talk to him. He tried again, "Grell?" I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep. Whether he realized I was faking or not, he sighed and got up to redress. Just before leaving, he paused in the door and muttered, "Next week, then." When I was sure he was gone, I sat up and sighed. Naked. Cold. And again, all alone. Normally, it didn't bother me, since I was usually asleep for real when he left, but tonight...I was lonesome. Maybe I should've been grateful to have Will at all. He was consistent, slept with me, and even stayed long enough to let me fall asleep in his arms. But somehow, I wasn't satisfied. For a few seconds, I just sat there in bed, debating on whether I felt badly enough to get up...

I did. So I stepped out, shivering and whining at the cold floor against my bare feet. I quickly grabbed up my robe-the fluffy, red one, not the sexy one I'd worn earlier-and left my room. A glance at the clock told me it was almost 2 a.m. Was my friend in his room? He had some odd sleeping habits, so I couldn't be sure. I crossed the hall to the door and knocked...silence. Once more...and still no answer. So I assumed he must be downstairs. I don't know why I was seeking him out; I just wanted _some_ kind of company, I guess. In any case, I moved down the stairs on soft, padding feet, and headed toward his office. However, before I could open the door, I heard an unfamiliar voice from inside.

"...not exactly what I expected. How do I know that the information you've given me is trustworthy?" Even muffled through the door, it was a smooth sound. Attractive.

"Hmm, I suppose you don't." That was the Undertaker...but who was he talking to? And why so late? "But your 'employer' did send you to my by name, didn't he? And I've told you what you asked for.

"My _employer_ is human, and therefore subject to faults of judgement," the other man answered. Did that mean that he knew what we were? How could he? And the way he talked, it sounded like he wasn't just any human, either. Fascinated, I moved a little closer and pressed my ear to the door. "If I find out that you're lying-"

"I'm sure you know your threats have no effect on me," my friend giggled. "That said, you're still welcome to make them." There was a pause here for a moment. Finally, the other man spoke once more.

"Either way, it's likely I'll be back here. Thank you for your services." He didn't sound quite sincere... But now he was coming to the door! I quickly scrambled away for fear of being caught eavesdropping, scurrying back toward the stairs. I hid there, crouched behind the banister, and peeked out at the door. Maybe I could catch a glimpse of this mysterious visitor. As the door opened and he stepped out, I saw that it was the stranger from earlier-the one who had come in so late. Had he been there the entire time? He stood for a moment, hat in hand, and glanced around the room. Then, with a sigh, he replaced his hat and started to leave. I stayed perfectly still to watch him go, and once he was gone, I finally allowed myself to breathe. I would have to ask my friend about him in the morning. For now, I felt a little jittery at the prospect of almost being caught, so I went back upstairs toward my room.

"It's impolite to eavesdrop." I heard that voice again, and I looked up just in time to be grabbed and pinned back against the wall in the hallway. It was _him_, and now that I could see him up close...oh... He was beautiful...! As he trapped me there, he had eyes of smoldering crimson fixed heatedly on mine, wicked eyes that shone in the darkness. "How much did you hear?"

"I...I didn't hear anything," I answered breathlessly, hardly able to speak at all. That moment felt so dangerous. A stranger who had me captive. Someone who wasn't human, but surely wasn't a Reaper like me. Someone with cold calculation in his eyes and not a hint of remorse. What was he? Would he hurt me? My heart pounded heavily against my chest. One of his hands rested firmly on my shoulder to hold me back, and it twitched toward my neck, toward my pulse beating madly. "How...did you know I was-?"

"You smell of sex," he informed me, wrinkling his nose slightly. "And cigarettes. _Tell me_ what you heard."

"N-nothing! I...heard that your employer sent you here...and he's a human," I managed. So strange for me to have so little command over my own words; I never got so flustered! His eyes searched my face, flicked down my body and back up. It wasn't an appraisal of my looks as I was used to; he was...analyzing me. Determining whether I was lying. Finally, he made a "hmph" sound and released me, taking a step back.

"You'll do well to stay out of the dealings of others in the future; meddling in _my_ affairs could very well cost you your life...immortal or not." So he _did_ know about us.

"How do you know what we are? ...what are you?" I asked. I had so many questions; having my life threatened was such a rare occurrence that I couldn't help but want to know the one who had that sort of power. Much to my dismay, however, he didn't seem keen on answering me.

"That is _my_ affair, isn't it?" he said, pulling the brim of his hat down a bit as he started down the stairs. "I suggest you keep your distance, and I'll do the same." Then he was gone, and I didn't even know his name. I stood still against the wall for a moment. Then my knees gave out, and I sank to the floor, clutching at my robe, wide-eyed and breathing hard. I hadn't felt like this...in years, it seemed. For a moment, I was actually afraid for my life. And it was electrifying. Those _eyes_... Whoever he was, _whatever_ he was, I was enchanted, enthralled, all fear and wonder. Keep my distance? There was no way. As I crawled back into bed, unable to rid myself of his voice, his gaze, I made a decision. No matter what it took, without question, I was going to see that man again.


End file.
